


The ABC Affair Challenge

by JantoJones



Series: The ABC Affair [1]
Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-07
Updated: 2017-07-02
Packaged: 2018-11-10 10:54:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 26
Words: 5,029
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11125623
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JantoJones/pseuds/JantoJones
Summary: A 26 day challenge in Section VII, on Live Journal.This is a series of shorts, drabbles and micro-drabbles.  Each work starts with consecutive letters of the alphabet.





	1. Day 1 - A

Acutely aware that he could be shot and killed if anyone recognised him, Illya Kuryakin strolled through the Thrush satrapy, carrying a clipboard in one hand, as though he belonged there. He’d found in previous missions that if you looked official then nobody bothered you. His assignment to photograph the latest thrush plans had been successful, but Illya still had to get out to safety. 

Making it to a suitable place to climb over the main wall, Illya found himself to be a little put out. He wasn’t a vain man but, he had just walked through the lion’s den without a disguise, and not one person had stopped him. He was supposed to be one half of U.N.C.L.E.’s top team. Despite the fact it would be a huge disadvantage for a man in the espionage game, Illya had at least expected to be recognised by someone at the facility.


	2. Day 2 - B

“Barring any issues, this assignment should be a breeze.”

Illya sighed at Napoleon’s words. He wasn’t a superstitious man, but he had the distinct feeling the American had just cursed the mission.

………………………………………………………………………

Ten hours later, the two agents retuned to headquarters, with one of them in a much better mood than the other.

Illya, who was soaked to the skin, squelched off in the direction of the showers. Napoleon, who was as pristine as when he’d left, called out after his partner.

“How long are you going to sulk for? It isn’t my fault you ran into swimming pool.”


	3. Day 3 - C

“Careful!”

Illya pulled his hands away from the device and glared at the man in front of him. There were some innocents who really tested his vow to protect them.

“Mr Kuryakin prefers silence when he’s defusing a bomb,” Napoleon Solo commented drily, as he leant against the wall with his arms folded.

The agents were on a mission to rescue one of New York’s top financiers, Phil Atkins, from Thrush, and had eventually found him in a derelict cinema. The man had been shackled to a pillar, with an explosive device forming part of the lock. Although he had determined that the explosion wouldn’t be large, Illya knew it would be enough to kill Mr Atkins.

On his knees, Illya once again leaned in and began the fiddly task of releasing the trapped man. Thankfully, Atkins remained quiet until the chain fell away.

“Thank you, thank you,” he gushed, shaking Illya’s hand a little too vigorously.

“Think nothing of it,” the Russian replied, pulling his hand away. “However, I suggest we make a hasty retreat.”

“Problem, Tovarisch?” Solo asked, as he hustled Atkins towards the exit.

“I was able to release the lock, but the device is still live,”

As they left the building, the three men heard a small explosion. Atkins gave a slight start, while Illya and Napoleon smiled at the success of another mission


	4. Day 4 - D

Doubt flooded Napoleon’s mind as he aimed his special at Illya’s captor. The Russian, who was in a deeply unconscious state, was being used as a human shield by a low level Thrush with ambitions of grandeur.

“I wouldn’t risk it, Solo,” Greg Myles called out. “You’ll never get me without hitting your partner.”

Therein lay Napoleon’s problem. Although Myles wasn’t an important cog in the Hierarchy, Napoleon couldn’t allow the man to get away and take Illya to Central; a prize that that could earn Myles his wished-for promotion. There was nothing for it. Napoleon aimed at the small part of Myles’ shoulder which was visible and took his shot. He winced as the bullet tore across the top of Illya’s shoulder before hitting its target.

The Thrush, in pain and surprise, dropped his shield. He was about to make an attempt at escape but thought better of it when Napoleon fired a warning shot.

“My partner is going to be very annoyed by that shoulder injury,” he commented, as he secured Myles to a chair.

…………………………………………………………………….

Heading to medical, after reporting to Mr Waverly, Napoleon could hear his partner yelling as soon as he stepped from the elevator.

“I simply want to know how I got this injury.”

Napoleon entered Illya’s room and greeted his partner and Nurse Jenson.

“It was me,” he admitted. “You were hit when I shot the guy who was holding you.”

Illya fixed him with his patented ice blue stare.

“I hope you have some money on you,” he said, eventually. “I intended on having a large, and expensive, dinner.”


	5. Day 5 - E

Evening had arrived and, as the light of day was chased away, it had left behind its stifling heat. Despite this, Napoleon Solo was shivering. This was mainly caused by the knife wound in his left side, but was also a reaction to the loss of Illya. 

The assignment had started off quite well. The pair had been sent to infiltrate a remote Thrush base and steal the formula for the antidote to a new nerve gas. U.N.C.L.E. had received intelligence that Thrush was preparing to release the gas imminently. Other teams had been sent to prevent it from happing, while Solo and Kuryakin were to find the antidote in case the other teams were unsuccessful. 

Getting in, and finding the formula, had been easy, but things had then gone south. Their escape had been hampered when a couple of guards had discovered them. A fight had duly broken out, during which Napoleon had been stabbed. As he’d continued to fight off his attacker, he had seen Illya get thrown through the window. Given they were on the third floor, Napoleon knew survival was unlikely.

With a renewed fervour, he had overpowered the guards and ran to the window. Looking down he’d seen more guards. They were examining his fallen partner, who had landed on what looked like a pile of discarded cardboard and packaging. Napoleon had allowed himself to hope that Illya’s fall had been cushioned, but his hopes were dashed when one of the men below declared the Russian to be dead. 

Closing his eyes momentarily, Napoleon realised that there was no time to mourn yet. He had to get the antidote formula to HQ; hopefully before his injury took him to the same place as Illya.

After travelling on foot for over an hour, Napoleon’s strength was beginning to leave him. He knew he wasn’t going to succeed in his mission, but continued on. He wouldn’t quit until his body did. Ten minutes later, Napoleon dropped to knees and he pitched forward. He sent a prayer in the hope the antidote wouldn’t be needed, and allowed the night to take him.

When next his eyes opened, Napoleon found himself in an entirely white room. Beside him, sitting with a concerned expression on his face, was Illya.

“So I am dead,” Napoleon murmured.

“You are still very much alive my friend.”

“Not possible,” Solo replied. “I saw you killed. That Thrush guard said you were dead.”

“My back hurts, and I have the babushka of all headaches,” Illya explained. “But I too am alive. They must really have thought me dead because, when I awoke, I was not secured. I made my escape and discovered you, unconscious, on the road side.”

“The antidote?”

“Wasn’t needed. The gas attack was prevented.”

“Good,” Napoleon slurred as he drifted back to sleep.


	6. Day 6 - F

“Farewell, Kuryakin,” declared the latest Thrush megalomaniac, as he left the Russian to his fate. “As adversaries go, it’s a shame to lose one so good.”

Illya rolled his eyes as the man left. It was a source of constant perplexity for him that Thrush never dealt with enemies in a straightforward manner. There always had to be some element of drama. His captor could simply have shot him but, instead, had left him hanging from the ceiling by his wrists. In front of him was a poisoned gas canister, attached to a timer. Illya had five minutes before the gas would be released.

In a well-practiced move, Illya swung his legs up to the beam he hung from, and removed the rope from his hands. After dropping to the floor, it took him mere seconds to pick the lock and escape through the door. Sprinting out of the building, into the darkness of the night, Illya ran headlong into another person.

Acting instinctively, he immediately rolled the other person on to their back. He was about to punch the man when he realised it was Napoleon.

“What’s the point of me coming all this way to rescue you, if you go and rescue yourself?” Solo asked, pushing Illya from him.

Scrambling to his feet, the smaller man helped his partner to his feet, before brushing himself down.

“I could not risk you turning up late again,” he replied.


	7. Day 7 G

Girls were an integral part of Napoleon’s life, but there was nothing more important than friendship. This was why, when his partner was seriously injured, Napoleon could always be found at his bedside; even if it meant cancelling a date. Girls came and went, but a close friend was permanent.


	8. Day 8 H

“How dare you!” yelled the beautiful red-head, as she stood up and slapped the face of her dinner companion. “I’m not that kind of woman.”

She stormed away, leaving the dark-haired man standing agape. The other patrons of the restaurant looked on with barely contained amusement. None of them took notice of the blond waiter as continued with his duties.

A short while later April, Napoleon, and Illya met up a little way from the restaurant.

“Did you manage it?” April asked.

“Of course,” replied Illya, with a slight smile. “Wherever that tracker goes, we will be able to follow.”


	9. Day 9 - I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is a 1 sentence, 25 word micro drabble.

Illya Kuryakin and Napoleon Solo were often told they were meant to be enemies, but neither man was accepting of being told what to think.


	10. Day 10 - J

Jostling for position, the graduating group of would-be U.N.C.L.E. agents tried to see where they had placed in the final rankings. More importantly, they wanted to see who came out on top. The training had been tough, and healthy competition had been very actively encouraged.

After a while everyone turned to face the one person who wasn’t fighting to see to the list. He wasn’t really interested in his position; mainly because he knew what it would be.

“Well done, Kuryakin,” Jules Cutter congratulated, gruffly.

Illya nodded in thanks, and didn’t fail to see the respect in the instructor’s eyes.


	11. Day 11 - K

“Krasivaya _(beautiful)_ ” breathed Illya Kuryakin, with obvious lust.

Napoleon looked to his partner, surprised by the man’s unusual public show of emotion. Following Illya’s sightline, he smiled when he saw what had prompted the outburst.

“It isn’t like you to drool over a pretty girl, Tovarisch.”

Illya tore his gaze away from the stunning blonde, whose clothing left little to the imagination.

“She is not a pretty girl,” he replied. “She is an exceptionally beautiful woman.”

“It’s still unlike you.”

“I may not be as overt with my appreciation of women as you,” Illya stated. “But I am not dead.”


	12. Day 12 - L

Listening out carefully for any sign of life, Napoleon crept through the creepy old mansion. Illya had been missing for three days and Solo’s investigations had led him to the long abandoned building. There was no-one else around, and Solo was certain there was no Thrush involvement.

Following a search of many rooms, Napoleon opened the door of another bedroom. He took one step in and his heart contracted in his chest. Lying on the dusty floor, were three blond-haired figures, all shackled in chains. He couldn’t see their faces, but they all looked like Illya and they were too still to be alive.

Napoleon walked across the room, with hesitant steps, and reached out his hand to the nearest one.

“None of them is me,” came a tired voice from behind him.

Startled, Napoleon turned and found his partner slumped against the wall, also in chains. He had been very badly beaten and seemed to be struggling to remain conscious. Solo was instantly by his side and, after picking the locks of the shackles, he called HQ for helicopter.

“Who are they?” he asked, as he helped Illya to lie flat.

“Do not know,” the Russian slurred. “Two were dead when I was brought here. The last died yesterday. I think.”

“Someone obviously has a hatred of blond men.

…………………………………………………………..

Two days later, Illya was preparing to leave medical as Napoleon left the room.

“Have the doctors discharged you?” the American asked, knowing full well they would have had no choice against the Soviet stubbornness.

“I am well enough to take care of myself at home.”

“We have news regarding your captor,” Napoleon told him, choosing to avoid an argument.  
“A woman called Mary Scott was jilted at the alter last month. Her intended was a blond man of slight stature. He was one of the bodies. She is quite wealthy and had arranged for him to be abducted, beaten, and left to die.”

“One must assume that her mind had snapped given that his death did not satisfy her.”

“Apparently not,” Napoleon confirmed. “She is now in the care of those who deal with that sort of thing.”

“Do I not have enough enemies without attracting the violent fantasies of a woman who has lost her mind?”

“I guess you’re just lucky that way,” Napoleon told him, ducking just in time to avoid the pillow which was thrown.


	13. Day 13 M

“MURDERER!!”

“Dammit,” cursed Napoleon, as he and Illya turned to face the screaming woman.

Solo had just sleep-darted the man who had intercepted their courier run, and he’d had been certain there were no witnesses. 

“You retrieve the package, and I’ll work my charm,” he said to Illya, before walking over to the woman. 

“Now he’s robbing the body!” the woman continued.

“Please calm yourself madam,” Napoleon said, in a calming tone, and holding his hands out in a conciliatory gesture. “The man isn’t dead, merely sleeping.”

“I saw your gun, I saw you shoot him.”

Before Napoleon could continue his explanation, two police officers arrived; attracted by the shouts of the woman. He tried to tell them who he was, even showing them his ID, but he was arrested anyway. Looking back at the sleeping Thrush, he saw no sign of Illya, and he smiled.

“Okay officers, I’ll come quietly.”

Napoleon figured a couple of hours in jail were a small price to pay to get the package back to HQ. Illya would explain to Waverly, and it would all be sorted. 

 

…………………………………………………..

Solo was released less than an hour later, and was summoned to Mr Waverly’s office.

“How many times must I ask you men to be careful when out in the open?”

The Old Man’s voice was level and calm, but Napoleon and Illya could see the frustration in his eyes.

“I appreciate things can move quickly in the field, and it isn’t always possible to ensure the area is clear, but please be more careful in the future.”

“Would you like us to visit the lady and offer an explanation?” Napoleon asked.

“No need, Mr Solo,” Waverly told him. “That is what Section 7 is for.”


	14. Day 14 - N

“No way, mate.”

“Come on, Mark. It’s only for a few hours.”

“I don’t care, Napoleon. It’s been a long day, and I want my kip*”

“Illya doesn’t mind disappearing for a while, and allowing me to use our hotel room, when I have a lady to entertain.”

“Illya’s a soft touch.”

“I wouldn’t let him hear you say that.”

“How do you know he doesn’t mind? Has he said so?”

“Not exactly. I just know he doesn’t. How about just two hours?”

“If you want a shag, pay for another room out of your own pocket. I’m off to bed.”

 

_*sleep_


	15. Day 15 - O

“Oil and water,” Alexander Waverly muttered to himself, as he perused the files of the two agents.

Napoleon Solo had been living up to his surname for too long, and it was time to partner him. Waverly had wanted to bring U.N.C.L.E.’s one and only Russian agent over from London for some time, and decided Solo and Kuryakin would be a good match.

The two were opposites in every way. Their political philosophies, personalities, likes and dislikes, and even their looks were completely different. This was why Waverly had decided to pair them. They could hopefully balance each other out.


	16. Day 16 - P

Pretty. 

It was a word he hated when it was applied to him. Illya wasn’t an overly vain man but, given the choice, he would have preferred to have been described as handsome. He was well aware that he was attractive but, much to his own annoyance, his youthful looks, blond hair, and blue eyes were definitely more towards the pretty end of the attractiveness spectrum.

That wasn’t to say he didn’t know how to use what he had been born with. A puppy dog expression could get him freed from a cell, or gain him access to somewhere he shouldn’t be. A shy look from below slightly lowered lids had gotten into the affections of women who had happily given up their secrets after spending time with him. Illya Kuryakin was a master of using whatever advantages he had at his disposal. 

Right at this moment, his pretty looks were melting the heart of an exceptional beauty across the other side of the jazz club. Picking up his drink, Illya offered the woman his patented half smile, before crossing the room to introduce himself.


	17. Day 17 - Q

“Quivering,” said Napoleon.

“Quavering?” suggested Illya.

“What about quaking?” asked Napoleon.

“Or maybe quailing,” proposed Illya.

“Yeah, that’s the one,” Napoleon enthused. “Quailing.”

Sitting, handcuffed to a chair, Frank Hanson’s head moved from side to side as each man spoke. 

“What are you talking about?” he said in a voice filled with fear.

He was a very low level Thrush operative who had never really wanted to be part of the organisation. Unfortunately, his father was rising through the ranks and was insisting his son followed suit. His capture by U.N.C.L.E. agents had been ridiculously easy and, at the time, Frank had been grateful; almost seeing it as a rescue. However, he now found himself in an interrogation room with two men who appeared to be quite mad.

“We’re trying to guess what word will describe you once Mr Kuryakin and I have finished our questioning,” Napoleon told him.

Franks eyes widened with terror. If the blond was Kuryakin, then the brunet must be Solo. His father had told him about them and had explained that the Russian was particularly bloodthirsty and cold. He’d asked other members of Thrush about the two, hoping that his father was exaggerating. All he could discover was that the man had a reputation for being ruthless. The thought of being interrogated by such a man sent the blood draining from Frank’s face and he vomited.

“Hm,” said Illya, as he cocked his head to the side. “I wasn’t expecting ‘queasy’.”


	18. Day 18 - R

“Remember, Illyushenka, there is a lot of evil in this world.”

Eight year old Illya Kuryakin hugged his babushka tightly, wondering why she was saying such a scary thing.

“But, don’t you worry,” she continued. “There is also a lot of good. Ordinary people only get to hear about the evil because good doesn’t need to show itself off in the same way. True heroes don’t brag, and light can always dispel the dark.”

“I’m still scared, Baba.”

“I know darling. I am scared also,”

“I want to do good when I am a man.”

“I am certain you will.”

…………………………………………………………..

“Remember boy, there is a lot of evil in this world.”

Nine year old Napoleon Solo stood to attention in front of grandfather, the admiral, wondering why he was telling him that.

“But, don’t you worry,” the admiral continued. “There are many forces for good which continually fight against that evil. When you watch the news, it often seems as though evil is winning. However, good is always working away, often quietly, to keep you safe.”

“It’s still scary.”

“I know my boy. Many people are scared.”

“I want to do good when I am a man.”

“You will,”


	19. Day 19 - S

“Sex, sex, sex,” pronounced Winifred King. “I’ve heard about your predilections, Mr Solo.”

“Who said anything about sex,” Solo protested. “I was just asking if you’d like to have dinner with me. You shouldn’t listen to office gossip.”

Napoleon always made a point of asking every new girl out for dinner, making sure to check for wedding rings first. 

“In that case, we would love to.”

“We?”

“I’m assuming you were extending the invitation to my husband also.”

“Husband?!” exclaimed Napoleon. “But, you’re not wearing a ring,”

“I don’t like rings,” Winifred explained. “I wear a necklace instead.”

She couldn’t help but smile of the expression of confusion on Napoleon’s face.”

“Don’t worry, Mr Solo,” she said, as she patted his cheek. I won’t be accepting your offer. Neither will Ted. I am very flattered though.”

Napoleon kissed the back of her hand and smiled. You couldn’t win them all.


	20. Day 20 - T

“Trust me,” Angelique purred, as she looked into her hand mirror, and reapplied her candy-pink lipstick.

“Trust _you_!” Illya Kuryakin exclaimed. “I would no more trust a bitch in heat around a dog pound.”

“I shall ignore that insult because I know you’re just worried about Napoleon.”

“Of course I’m worried,” Illya spat. “He’s in the hands of your employers.”

“Calm down, darling,” Angelique soothed. “I want him to be unharmed just as much as you do. Give me twenty-four hours and he’ll be back in U.N.C.L.E.’s arms, safe and sound.”

Illya mulled over his options. He had no idea where Napoleon was, or who had taken him. Although he truly didn’t trust Angelique, she did seem to hold some affection for his partner. Also, she probably would have a better idea of where he could be found.

“You have twelve hours,” Illya told her. “During which time I will be conducting my own investigations.”

………………………………………………………

Eleven and a half hours later, Napoleon arrived back at headquarters. He appeared unharmed and, after debriefing with Mr Waverly, he and Illya went to their office.

“Something tells me you have been free of Thrush’s clutches for longer than you claimed in Waverly’s office.”

“What makes you say that?” asked Napoleon, with faux outrage.

“Call me psychic,” Illya replied, glancing at the candy-pink lipstick mark on Napoleon’s collar.


	21. Day 21 - U

Unshod, Illya stepped out of the chalet, onto the snow of the Swiss Alps. The cold instantly felt like icy needles shooting though his flesh, but he stayed where he was; wiggling his toes. It was a sensation which transported him to a time a quarter of a century earlier.

“You’ll catch your death,” commented Napoleon, as he came out to see why the door had been left standing open.

“You sound just like my babushka,” Illya replied, with a wistful smile. “I was always being scolded by her for going out in the snow without shoes.”

“What would she say if she could see that you were still doing it?”

“Well, my backside would end up a lot warmer than my feet.”

Napoleon laughed, imaging the indignant scowl on the adult Kuryakin’s face after being spanked by his grandmother.

“I’m going back inside,” he told his partner. “Given how susceptible you are to colds, maybe you should too. You don’t want to be ill for the assignment tomorrow.”

“You worry too much, Napoleon,” Illya replied. “I’ll be back in shortly.”

As Solo stepped back into the chalet, he heard the unmistakeable sound of Illya trying to muffle a sneeze.


	22. Day 22 - V

“Velouté de langoustine,” Napoleon Solo replied to his dinner companion’s query about the sauce he had made.

“And the whole dish is?” asked Illya, prodding at it with his fork.

“Saumon avec velouté de langoustine, et légumes de la mer,” solo told him, with an unnecessary enthusiasm. 

“Your accent is almost as bad as this looks,” Illya commented, as he sniffed a piece of the fish before taking a bite.

“Since when have you been this picky over food,” Solo complained.

“Since I was presented with this,” Illya answered. “It does not deserve the pretentious build up which you gave it, although it does taste a lot better than I had been expecting.”

“Pretentious!” Napoleon exclaimed. “What do you mean by that?”

“You could have just said it was ‘Salmon, with a creamy lobster sauce, and samphire’.”

“Spoilsport,” Solo huffed. “At least it is better than that soufflé you made.”


	23. Day 23 - W

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I must thank mrua7 for planting the seed of this piece.

“Who are you and what are you doing?”

Raising his hands, Illya straightened up and turned to face the owner of the voice. He found himself staring down the barrel of a Thrush rifle.

“Who are you and what are you doing?” the grunt repeated, more forcefully.

“I am Illya Kuryakin,” the agent replied. “And I’ve just planted a small bomb. In twenty seconds this whole room will be destroyed, along with insidious weapons it contains.”

He stepped aside so that the gunman could see the truth of his words. Realising the man had frozen in shock, Illya carefully edged towards the door but, before he disappeared through the door, his conscious got the better of him. He grabbed hold of the grunt and dragged him out with him. He didn’t get far however, and knew no more as his explosive took out the wall and buried both him and the Thrush gunman.

………………………………………

Illya felt something heavy being lifted from him and, opening his eyes, was surprised to see Napoleon. 

“What are you doing here,” he asked, before groaning.

“When you didn’t return after an hour, I came looking for you,” Solo explained. “I’m guessing that you were interrupted, given the body lying on top of you.”

“He’s dead? Chyort!”

Napoleon suddenly felt strangely relieved. It hadn’t been a truly conscious thought but, when he’d found that Illya had been blocked from harm by another man, a treacherous little voice had wondered if he had deliberately used him as a shield. His partner had a cold, bloodthirsty streak in him, but Napoleon hadn’t wanted to believe he could be as callous as all that.

“Come on,” he said, helping Illya to his feet. “The job’s done, let’s get back.”


	24. Day 24 - X

“Xerophytic plants are what you should be thinking about,” Illya told his partner. “That would solve your problem.”

Napoleon had been complaining that, once again, his houseplants had all died while he had been away on an extended assignment. Despite having it happen on several occasions, Solo liked having live plants in his apartment so he persevered. 

“You’re a genius, Tovarisch,” Napoleon replied, slapping Illya on the shoulder. 

“I am aware of that,” Illya stated, with a deadpan expression.

“Plants that can survive with very little moisture are definitely the way to go. I shall get myself a few cacti.”


	25. Day 25 - Y

“Young people today,” muttered Alexander Waverly, after Napoleon Solo and Illya Kuryakin had left his office.

“What was that, Sir?” Lisa Rogers asked, as she cleared up the files from the debriefing.

“Hmmm? Oh, I was just thinking about the resilience of the young people under my command,” Waverly replied. “Those two have just gone through a long, and in Mr Kuryakin’s case, torturous, assignment. Mr Solo hardly came away unscathed either. Yet, despite this, and all the other times they’ve done the same, they left this office laughing and joking, and making plans for their evenings.”

“You’re right, Sir,” Lisa agreed. “But it’s no different for them than it was for you.”

“What do you mean, Miss Rogers?”

“Well Sir, you fought in the Great War,” she began. “I have no first-hand experience, of course, but I know from the tales my grandfather told, and those of my father from the Second War, that you played hard too. Your lives were in grave danger all of the time, so you knew that you had to enjoy yourself when the chances came. Mr Solo and Mr Kuryakin, although they have very different ideas of what enjoyment is, are doing exactly what you and your generation did.”

“Thank you, Miss Rogers,” Mr Waverly answered, nodding his agreement. “You have summed it up perfectly. Those young men deserve whatever fun they can get from life.”


	26. Day 26 - Z

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who went with me through this ABC challenge. All the comments and kudos making my writing worthwhile :-D

Zealotry seemed to be a trait which was highly prevalent amongst the ranks of Thrush. Alongside vanity, and insanity, this made for some exceptionally unstable people. As Illya Kuryakin watched his latest captor rave on about his ‘master plan’, he wondered if he somehow attracted the worst ones.

Illya had been caught, thirty minutes previously, trying to discover the plans for a new chemical weapon and was now shackled to a chair in front of the architect of those plans. Anderson Oakes had spent that time explaining his plans in minute detail. That was another thing which always puzzled Illya. The ‘bad guys’, as Napoleon called them, always felt the need to inflate their own egos by showing how clever they were. To that end, Oakes was doing Illya’s job for him by telling him the information he’d come looking for.

As Oakes continued to show off, Illya had to draw on all of his will power reserves not to sigh or roll his eyes. He was beginning to wish that he inevitable interrogation would start just so he wouldn’t have to listen to any more bragging. Oakes’ speech had gone down the route that most Thrush members took, and he was now explaining how he would rise to the top and take over the organisation. It astonished him that Thrush managed to work as a cohesive unit when so many of them were willing to sell the others out to get to the top.

He was about to lose the battle against sighing when Oakes suddenly stopped dead in his tracks. The man dropped to the floor, unconscious, and Illya could see an U.N.C.L.E. sleep dart embedded in his neck.

“Ready to go home, Tovarisch?” asked Napoleon, stepping into Illya’s line of sight.

“More than you will ever know,” the Russian replied, emphatically.


End file.
